Friday Poetry: Margaret Wise Brown

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has exciting plans for the weekend. My chosen poem this Friday is by an American author Margaret Wise Brown (May 23, 1910 – November 13, 1952). Brown wrote children’s books and poetry.


The Secret Song

Who saw the petals

drop from the rose?

I, said the spider,

But nobody knows.


Who saw the sunset

flash on a bird?

I, said the fish,

But nobody heard.


Who saw the fog

come over the sea?

I, said the sea pigeon,

Only me.


Who saw the first

green light of the sun?

I, said the night owl,

The only one.


Who saw the moss

creep over the stone?

I, said the grey fox,

All alone.



Margaret Wise Brown


Happy reading.

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Friday Poetry: Pamela Mordecai

Happy Friday!

Today’s poem has a different take on things, instead of focusing on Christopher Columbus discovering America, it focuses on the people who lost their lands.

Lament of an Arawak Child


Once I played with the hummingbirds

and sang songs to the sea

I told my secrets to the waves

and they told theirs to me.

Now there are no more hummingbirds

the sea’s songs are all sad

for strange men came and took this land

and plundered all we had.

They made my people into slaves

they worked us to the bone

they battered us and tortured us

and laughed to hear us groan.

Today we’ll take a long canoe

and set sail on the sea

we’ll steer our journey by the stars

and find a new country.


Pamela Mordecai


Happy Reading


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Friday Poetry: Eve Merriam

Happy Friday!

I hope you all have a fantastic weekend planned.

Today’s poem is by a new poet for me, Eve Merriam. Eve Merriam was an American poet and writer.



On the pad of my thumb

are whorls, whirls, wheels

in a unique design:

mine alone.

What a treasure to own!

My own flesh, my own feelings.

No other, however grand or base,

can ever contain the same.

My signature,

thumbing the pages of my time.

My universe key,

my singularity.

Impress, implant,

I am myself,

of all my atom parts I am the sum.

And out of my blood and my brain

I make my own interior weather,

my own sun and rain.

Imprint my mark upon the world

whatever I shall become.


Eve Merriam

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Friday Poetry: Rachel Field

Well the weather is starting to upset me, I want it to be summer again. I really dislike getting up in the morning and it is dark and coming home from work in the dark and when the clocks go back at the end of October it will be even worse.

So todays poem is about migrating birds. I must admit I am rather envious of the Wild Geese following the sun.


Something Told the Wild Geese


Something told the wild geese

It was time to go.

Though the fields lay golden

Something whispered, – ‘Snow.’


Leaves were green and stirring,

Berries, lustre-glossed,

But beneath warm feathers

Something cautioned, – ‘Frost.’


All the sagging orchards

Steamed with amber spice,

But each wild breast stiffened

At remembered Ice.


Something told the wild geese

It was time to fly, –

Summer sun was on their wings,

Winter in their cry.


Rachel Field


Happy reading.

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Friday Poetry: Robert Louis Stevenson

Happy Friday my fellow Book Dragons.

I hope everyone has some wonderful bookish plans for the weekend. I sadly have a very full weekend work wise so will be lucky to get much reading in.

Today I noticed how the leaves on the trees are starting to change colour and that autumn is definitely on the way, so I thought an autumn based poem was required.

Autumn Fires


In the other gardens

And all up the vale,

From the autumn bonfires

See the smoke trail!

Pleasant summer over

And all the summer flowers,

The red fire blazes,

The grey smoke towers.

Sing a song of seasons!

Something bright in all!

Flowers in the summer,

Fires in the fall!


Robert Louis Stevenson


Happy Reading

Picture is not of a bonfire but one of the fires we have in our house.


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Friday Poetry: Tolkien

Happy Friday Everyone!

Apologies in the delay of the Friday Poetry post, yesterday I just did not feel like blogging and today assignments got the better of me.

Today I have gone for a poem by my all time favourite author J. R. R. Tolkien. This poem features in his book The Fellowship of the Ring, which is the first book of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I used to read this trilogy every year but have not read it for at least 6 or 7 years, I think it might be time to reread an old favourite.


All That is Gold Does Not Glitter

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost.

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be the blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

J. R. R. Tolkien


Happy Reading.

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Friday Poetry: Brian Patten

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has exciting bookish plans for the weekend.

So my chosen poem this week is celebrating some of my favourite children’s books so I thought I would share it with you all.

The poem is by Brian Patten an English poet and author born 1946. He writes mostly lyrical poetry about human relationships.


Reading the Classics

The Secret Garden will never age;

The tangled undergrowth remains as fresh

As when the author put down her pen.

Its mysteries are as poignant now as then.


Though Time’s a thief it cannot thieve

One page from the world of make-believe.


On the track the Railway Children wait;

Alice still goes back and forth through the glass;

In Tom’s Midnight Garden Time unfurls,

And children still discover secret worlds.


At the Gates of Dawn Pan plays his pipes;

Mole and Ratty still float in awe downstream.

The weasels watch, hidden in the grass.

None cares how quickly human years pass.


Though Time’s a thief it cannot thieve

One page from the world of make-believe.


Brian Patten


Happy Reading.

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